


The Time of Your Afterlife

by Missy



Category: Dancing Queen - ABBA (Song)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Death, Flirting, Gen, Ghosts, Urban Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony thinks Jake's urban legends are full of bullshit.  And then he sees her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time of Your Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsukara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukara/gifts).



“Hey, did they ever tell you this joint’s haunted?” 

Tony scoffs and slaps the bar with his rag at his friend’s declaration. “No, they didn’t tell me this joint’s haunted. Wanna clear that up?” he reached under the bar for a beer. Whatever bullshit Jake had to sling is likely to be amazing, and he wants to wring every drop of humor he can from the conversation.

“Yeah, well, it totally is.” Jake unties his apron and starts folding it up. “Y’know this place was built on an old theatre that burned down, don’t you? The guy who owned the place rushed his builders and they ended up with a bunch of faulty wiring in the kitchen. Six hundred people died – burned, trampled or crushed, they say. They got stuck in what used to be the doorway that was over there.” He points at a dramatically arched doorway at the far end of the bar that led to the elevators.

“Geeze, ain’t you a jolly jim?” Tony asks. 

“I like local color, so what?” says Jake.

“Whatever, just don’t start talking about this crap in front of any cute broads.” He sips his beer. “Anyway, I knew all about it ‘cause of that plaque in the foyer.” Tony deliberately gives it the snobbiest reading he can – foy –ay. His acting coach would be proud. “They told me they don’t have any of the original stuff that was in that place in here ‘cause it would’ve pissed people off. They even gave this place an extra floor so they wouldn’t shit themselves about it.”

Jake tips back his beer. “Yeah, well, here’s the story – on the anniversary of the fire, this lady in a retro-looking green dress shows up at the bar. Comes with a little gold tin crown, ‘cause she came here after her prom to celebrate. Gorgeous redhead, blue eyes, great figure – cans like Rita Hayworth’s…”

“I get the picture already!” says Tony.

“Anyway, she spends the whole night dancing with anyone who’ll ask. Then she heads to the bartender and asks for a bottle, and while she wait for it she flirts with the first guy she spots wearing a green shirt.” Tony groans at this little revelation; he’s wearing a great shirt, of course. “She asks him if he wants to take her home. If he says no, then she lets him go. But if he says yes, she takes him with her…y’know, to the afterlife or the ghost world or whatever. She’s spent sixty years looking for the right guy to bring her back home, and she’s probably gonna keep coming back here ‘til she meets him.”

“Whatta load of horseshit!” Tony cackles. “If that were true why ain’t there a whole bunch of missing people then, Einstein?”

“That’s the catch – they keep saying no. So there’s no trail and no witnesses.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

“Anyway, be careful tonight. Y’never know who’s gonna try to cause a scene.” Jake finishes off his beer and ambles for the side door. 

“Yeah right,” chuckles Tony. “Every drunk’s nightmare; a broad who disappears without paying her bills!” And Tony roars, roars because Jake has to be shitting him. Because Jake’s always shitting him; Tony’s so used to the guy trying to yank his dick over some urban legend he’s just researched that he almost asks if there were ghosts in his cereal that morning. “Right, this place is so haunted that it scares ‘em off the floor,” he laughs nudging the other man with his elbow, turns up the collar of his studded jacket and reaching for another brewskie. The noise level surrounding them told the tale; they are anything but alone in the bar tonight.

“Yeah, dude, whatever – it’s all true!” The other guy nervously runs his fingers through his multicolored Mohawk and insists, “People keep saying there are cold zones in the bathroom, and you can hear a kid laughing on the top floor. This bar’s ground zero, poltergeist paradise!”

“Don’t you have a date to get to?”

Jake flushes. “Right. See you tomorrow man.”

“Yeah! Next time, wait a week before laying the whole ‘hey, the bar’s haunted, watch out for your balls’ bs on me, it’s kinda tame after that whole ‘Loch Ness Monster’s hiding in the toilet’ story you gave me last week.”

Jake disappears and Tony gets to work at his shift. It proceeds normally enough, even as midnight passes, as the drunk college kids start crashing his station looking for cheap booze. After a few hours of holding wastepaper baskets for them, and listening to them complain about their professors he takes a break. 

Two beers later, he sees a girl. Not just _a_ girl, one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. She has long red hair and green eyes, and she’s wearing a green chiffon dress with a little tear at the hip.

She smiles as she heads to the bar, leaning against the hard, firm, wood. “Can I get a glass of champagne?” she asks.

Dumbly, Tony nods. He reaches under the bar blindly and pulls out a Brut, smacking himself in the chin with the corked bottle. “Hey,” he squeaks out, then groans and deliberately lowers his voice. “Uh, hey,” he says. “First drink’s on the house.”

“Is it really?” her voice! Damn, it’s like being kissed by an angel. “I thought it’s fifty cents.”

“Ahh. Take it you’re not new here?” He nervously grabs a glass and poura one for her.

She shakes her head, then looks around the club, sad-eyed. “It feels like I’ve been here forever.” 

Delicately picking up the glass, he watches her suggestively stroke the stem. Mouth dry, he parts his lips to speak.

She cuts him off. Bending over the bar on her soft little elbows, she cups his chin and presses her lips to his temple, silky, brief and gamine.

Then she sits back on her stool. A frown mars her pretty features. “You’re not the one,” she sighs, a look of complete, total sadness darkening her features. Her red fingertips make a Souza march against the polish of the bar, red curls dipping into her moist eyes.

He feels so bad so abruptly; it’s like catching the flu, that sudden drop in his gut. Being kicked in the dick would probably feek better than disappointing this enchanting girl. He cloaks his emotion; emotions aren’t cool after all, and he’s got a rep to maintain. He lowers his head and starts polishing the counter. “Hey, lady, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but just ‘cause I ain’t a prince doesn’t mean we can’t have…”

But she vanishes as soon as he raises his gaze.

“Fun?”


End file.
